Aftermath
by TypinasfastasIcan
Summary: Set immediatley after "Bride". After the events at Chloe and Jimmys' wedding, Lois and Clark turn to one another for comfort and solace, but their actions have unexpected consequences--and revelations. WIP
1. Chapter 1

**Prelude**

Clark encouraged me to write. He said that by putting my thoughts down on paper I might be able to deal with my grief. I wouldn't have to carry it around. I thought it a silly idea. How could writing in my journal help? Grudgingly, I did write. In the beginning, I thought it would be too hard--too painful to write the words. At first, my journal entries were stilted and impersonal, like descriptions in the TV Guide. Once I started to write, I found myself cataloging everything and as I unburdened my soul, the journal made it possible for me to go on, made it possible for me to breathe again, possible for my shattered heart to heal. My journal and Clark, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

_**Journal entry – November 22, 2008**_

Chaos.

No other word could adequately describe my feelings or the scenario that unfolded over the past 30-odd hours. I was numb. Maybe that alone accounted for my lack of feelings—my disconnection. I felt hollow, bereft. That's what I was thinking when Clark found me in the hospital as I waited for Jimmy to recover after surgery. Clark was still dressed in the black suit and silver shirt he had worn to the wedding. It struck me as odd that he would still be dressed this way, but then I realized I was still dressed in the pumpkin taffeta and silk that Chloe had chosen for me. How festive we both were in our fine clothing— our attire contrasted sharply with our mood. I would have laughed aloud at the absurdity of it all, if I'd had the energy or the strength. I had neither. All I could muster was a slight upward nod of my head to him. He crossed the room and I was pulled into his strong embrace before I had given it a second thought, as though he already knew that I was completely drained and that I would need to leech strength from him in order to stand.

"How is Jimmy?" He asked. His voice seemed slightly hoarse, as if he had been straining against some unseen force. I wondered at that. My mind was clutching after every available distraction.

"The doctors say that he is stable now, and all we can do it wait. That's what I've been doing--waiting."

I felt him nod slightly against my shoulder. I pressed myself tighter to him. Waiting had sapped all my strength. It was good that Clark was with me now. I didn't know if I could do it alone much longer. He held me closer for a moment and then began to pull away from me. He looked at my face and I saw the concern reflected in his eyes. I didn't know at the time what he saw. I wouldn't know until much later how sallow my face was, and that the deep purple shadows under my eyes alarmed him.

"Lois, let's go home. You've done all you can for Jimmy."

"No." I protested. Although home did sound inviting, I didn't want to leave Jimmy alone. I didn't want him to be alone when he found out that Chloe was still missing. "He'll need a friend here when he wakes up. I can't leave him."

"Oliver is on his way. He will stay with him and let us know as soon as there is a change in his condition."

"But I . . . we sh—"

" You _need_ to rest." He reiterated. He was right. My limbs were numb. I was already on autopilot. I wasn't going to last much longer. There was no point fighting Clark on this. He would win in the end and I didn't have the energy for it. I acquiesced with a nod of my head.

He led me down the wide hallway of the hospital, my heels echoed down the empty, desolate corridor. As we approached the sliding doors at the exit of the hospital, a gust of cold air assaulted me. He quickly shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders. It had been raining. I briefly recalled hearing the storm rage outside as I waited in the uncomfortable hospital chairs, but I had not paid it any attention. It was no match for the storm that raged in my heart and in my soul. I shouldn't have been surprised to see the bleak and dismal heavens looming overhead as we left the hospital. I snuggled deeper into Clarks' coat—a shield against the cold, dismal November sky.

Clark opened the door of the truck and helped me get settled in the passenger seat. When he climbed into his side of the cab, I scooted closer to him, still relying on his strength to buoy me. He wrapped his arm around me without a word—as though he knew without my saying it that I needed him to keep me tethered. Soon, the rocking motion of the cab soothed me, my eyelids became heavy and I gave in and let sleep overtake me.

~*~*~

I slept for the entire long ride back from Star City, and only became aware of the change of surroundings when the purr of the engine stopped.

Clark carried me into the house, as I was still in the groggy state of awareness that follows the sleep of exhaustion. He carried me up the stairs to the room that I claimed when staying at the Kent farm—his old bedroom.

He laid me gently on the bed. I felt his hand next to my head and realized that he was unthreading my earrings from my ears. I hear a soft clink as he placed them in a dish on his bedside table that had appropriated for this purpose.

He next slipped my shoes off my feet. I cried out in relief. I ceased feeling in my limbs for so long, that I hadn't realized how painful these impossible shoes had been.

"You awake?" Clark asked, quietly. I felt the mattress dip under his weight as he sat down next to me on the bed and my eyes fluttered open.

"Just barely." I whispered out in a half-hearted rasp, not sure that my words were coherent.

He grinned slightly at me and brushed a lock of hair from my face. His fingers were warm and comforting.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"'s ok." I smiled back at him timidly.

"When was the last time you had anything to eat?"

I shrugged, and then I remembered a nurse cajoled me into a taking a few bites of a dry, tasteless sandwich earlier. "I had a few bites of a sandwich earlier. I don't remember what was on it."

"Why don't you take a long hot bath and I'll go make you something decent." I really wasn't hungry, but the idea of a hot bath did sound appealing; the promise of the hot water soothing my tired limbs and frayed nerves.

"C'mon." He coaxed. He stood and took my trembling hands in his, pulling me from the bed. My legs were unsteady and I wavered, sagging against him. My body felt as though all strength had gone out of it, as though my bones had melted away. The tears I'd been holding back sprung from my eyes and now flowed freely, as though a dam had broken and I was powerless to stop the tide. He sat back down on the bed and pulled me into his lap and held me.

"I'm sorry to fall apart on you like this." I wheezed.

"Shhh. Shh." He comforted and rocked me gently. "It's ok."

I felt the rumble of his chest as he continued to whisper words of comfort to me. I couldn't hear the words over the broken sobs that racked my body. The words to a song entered my mind on some random tangent; _how many times can I break till I shatter? _That was how I felt, that I would shatter if not for his strong arms binding the pieces of me together. I cried until I was out of tears, and still he held me, anchoring me to this plane.

I sighed. A half shudder, half hiccough, as one does when exhausted from crying. I was sure that my eyes were swollen. Hell, my nose was probably running.

When I was out of tears and he was out of words, I felt the press of his lips against my hair and then my forehead. Then he pulled away from me ever so slightly. I felt a panic rise in my chest because I knew that I would be unable to stand on my own. But he didn't break from me. He cupped my face with his hand, wiping a stray tear from my cheek with his thumb. He then he kissed my cheek; Kissing away the tears, trying to heal my broken soul.

As he kissed me, I realized something that I been too busy to notice before. His cheeks were wet with tears of his own. How could I have been so selfish? His heart was breaking too! How many holes had been torn in his chest over the years I had known him and now this! He loved Chloe as much as I did. This had to be destroying him. He would never forgive himself that he couldn't protect her. And here I was, selfishly taking comfort from him when he needed comfort so desperately.

I felt protective of him suddenly. I wanted to heal his wounds and his heart. I kissed his cheek and he drew me closer to him. He was so strong, and yet so vulnerable. I could feel his sculpted muscles beneath his silk shirt, could feel the power emanating from him. His arms could easily crush me, and yet now they held me in the most tender of caresses, as though they had been waiting for this purpose for an eternity.

I let one finger graze over his lower lip and moved my head forward and kissed him carefully. As I pressed my lips against his, he stilled. NO! I thought, I had crossed a line and now I would never be able to step back. All I wanted to do was to offer him comfort but my actions were too rash, too impulsive. I'd acted too soon after the awkwardness of the dance we'd shared. Was it only yesterday that we'd danced?--It seemed so long ago.

Then his lips moved against mine--gentle, tentative, hesitating, but not from lack of confidence. This was something else. It was as if he was deliberately holding back. Deliberately reigning in his ardor, but for what reason I could not ascertain. I wound my hands in his hair and pulled him to me, silently signaling that I wasn't afraid, that I would not run away, that I was ready to be there for him. To be needed.

He kissed the corner of my mouth, my cheeks and eyelids. The stubble on his cheek slashed against my delicate skin, but I didn't care. I had felt so disconnected that I had wondered if the feeling would ever return to my body. Finally, I was feeling something.

"Lois . . ." he said, his voice a husky rasp. The raw emotion laid bare as he whispered my name sent a shiver up my spine.

I sought his lips again, and there was nothing tentative about the kiss this time. I crushed his mouth with my own, brushed my tongue against his lips, and probed his mouth as he opened up to me. There wasn't even a trace of hesitancy on his part as Clark returned my kiss, matching my need with his own. He held me tight against him, as if he could feel the world slipping away and was as desperate as I was to cling to it. His mouth moved against mine hungrily. I felt like my body was melting, and surrendered completely to the sensual pleasure of the kiss.

The sharp peal of the telephone finally broke the spell that had shrouded us. Clark struggled to control his breathing before he spoke into the receiver.

"Hello? . . . Oh, hi John."

As soon as I heard it was Detective Jonzz, I knew this would be about Chloe and felt a quick stab of guilt. I quietly slid from off Clarks' lap and went to the bathroom to start my long overdue bath.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 - **_**journal entry 2**_

The bath did wonders to restore me. I took a few bites of the sandwich and fruit that Clark had brought up to my room while I changed into my PJs, then I wandered downstairs to thank him. The downstairs rooms were dark except for the firelight. I found Clark sitting on the couch in front of a roaring fire. He had removed his tie and cufflinks, his shirt fell open at the collar and his shirtsleeves were rolled up exposing his bronzed skin. His feet were bare. He looked relaxed and casual, but I knew there was a storm raging inside him, just below the surface.

He took the hairbrush out of my hand, and motioned for me to sit on the ottoman in front of him. I unwrapped my hair and he took the towel from me and tossed it over the rocking chair near the fire. Then he began brushing my hair, deftly working through the tangles and restoring order. I was amazed at how soothing this was—how naturally we fell into an easy rhythm, as though this activity was something we'd done hundreds of times before. He stopped for a moment, grabbed the ottoman on either side and dragged it closer to him so that I was situated between his legs. I felt the press of his thigh against me, and I wondered not for the first time when I started to be so acutely aware of him. As he did this, I noticed the sweet aroma of alcohol on his breath. I'd never known Clark to drink—ever.

I picked up a glass from the side table and shifted a little so that I could see his face.

"May I?"

"Since when do you ask permission?"

I shrugged. "Seemed like the right thing to do."

"You don't have to ask Lois, I'm used to it."

"Well it takes the fun out of it if it doesn't bother you." The corner of his mouth raised in a small smirk. In that moment we were back to our old selves. We were normal again.

I tipped the glass to my lips and let the amber liquid slide down my throat, burning a path of fire all the way down, spreading the fire through my belly and limbs.

"Mmmm, that's good."

"A present from Lionel Luthor; It probably cost more than I make in one month at the Planet."

I nodded and took another sip, feeling the burn again, anticipating it, welcoming it. Not only was he probably right, I wanted him to know that he could open up to me. I know how hard it is for him to share his feelings with anyone.

"I had planned on having a toast with Jimmy—I thought that he would like that." He sounded so tired.

"Yes, I think he would have liked that."

"I hope there is something to toast when this is all over."

I couldn't think about that. Usually, Clark was Mr. Positive—at least on the outside. I knew that he had perfected brooding—he practically lettered in it in High School. I had to help him. I had to try and bring him out of his black thoughts.

"Let's toast. To Jimmy's health."

"Ok." He nodded and turned over another glass and poured himself a drink from the crystal decanter on the side table. He poured more into my glass. "To Jimmy."

We softly clinked the crystal glasses together and drained them. Again I felt the burn. The burn replaced the numbness. It felt good.

"I want to make another toast." I chirped. He poured more scotch into our glasses. Again the clink of the glasses. "To finding Chloe." I tossed the liquid back again and held out my glass for a refill. He took the glass from my hand and set it on the side table.

"Hey, I'm not done with that."

"Yes you are."

"I can handle my liquor. Who made you the party police, anyway?" I stuck out my lower lip in a pout and punched his shoulder with my right hand. "Owww! Have you been eating concrete? I swear your body keeps getting harder!" Only after I said the last part did I realize how it sounded. I certainly hadn't meant it that way. I thanked God that Clark was either too innocent to pick up on the double entendre or too much of a gentleman to comment to it. Then he did the most surprising thing. He took my hand in his and kissed my knuckles. He gently rubbed my knuckles with his thumb. Suddenly, I felt as if I was molded out of jello. Maybe the alcohol was having an effect on me, after all. He put his other arm around me to support me. I leaned into him, welcoming the comfort of his arms around me, still increasingly aware of him; the way his hair hung over his forehead, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the way the firelight played over the chiseled planes of his face. . .

"Lois, I'm not trying to censor you. I need to talk to you, and I need you sober. "

His tone broke through the fog of my brain.

"Ok. Talk to me."

"I spoke to Detective Jonzz earlier. We are going to meet with Oliver and his team tomorrow. Oliver thinks he might have a lead on where Chloe has been taken."

I nodded, taking in the information. "Olivers' Team? Does he have a band of Merry Men?"

"Oliver works with a team of others that are working to bring down criminals like Lex Luthor. If you are asking if they all wear green leather, then the answer is no."

"But they all have abilities and secret identities don't they?"

"What if they do?" He asked evenly.

"You know who they are!"

"I—"

"Don't even try to deny it Smallville. You know. You have always known. What have you got on them that they let you in their secret club, I wonder?" _Was he one of them? Was he the Blur? _That would explain so much; the disappearing, the incredible timing, the lame-ass lies. Before I could ask it aloud he had taken hold of my upper arms and pulled me closer to him so that I was meeting his intense gaze.

"Lois, listen to me. Before you get carried away with your crazy theories, I need you to listen."

I swallowed and nodded my head. "Lois, even if I knew the identities of all the members of Olivers' team, I wouldn't be able to tell you their identities. These are not my secrets to tell and it would put you in danger."

The reality of what he was telling me took hold. "Omigod! That's probably what happened to Chloe. She knew too much."

He sighed heavily and relaxed his hold on me, leaning back against the couch. "We're not sure what happened to Chloe, but that is one possibility."

There was silence as I contemplated all the possibilities. He broke into my thoughts again when he said:

"I want you to go to Washington and stay with my mom until all this is settled."

"You're sending me away?"

"For your safety."

"I can ha—"

"Are you really going to tell me you can handle yourself?

"What right do you have to treat me like a child?"

"Are you serious? Do you even hear what you are saying? Why do you have to be so stubborn all the time? That thing threw me across the barn like I was a rag doll. And have you forgotten about Jimmy? We don't even know what we are dealing with, but whatever it is, we have to assume that it knows us and knows how to get to us. If this thing is after the people I care about, then you are in danger. Do you think for one minute that I could leave here tomorrow knowing that I'd be leaving you here to face that thing alone? Lois, this isn't a polite request or a negotiation. You are going to Washington. And that's final."

I was stunned. I don think I had ever heard Clark say so much at one time before, and certainly not with such intensity. I took me a bit to process what he had just said. I swallowed hard.

"You care about me?" I expected he would cover it with sarcasm—as we normally would. Instead, he cupped my chin in his hand, his fingers curiously gentle.

"Lois, you know I do."

I don't know what it was about the way he said it. Maybe it was the intensity of his gaze or maybe it was the seductive timbre of his voice, but I felt the sincerity of his words cut through me like a knife slicing through warm butter.

Hope, anxiety, and some incomprehensible yearning suddenly swelled within me, tangling my thoughts and emotions so, that I could make no sense of them at all as his eyes gazed darkly into mine, seeming to draw out the innermost secrets of my heart and soul.

In that instant, my world contracted sharply to the quiet room where we sat together, insulated from the cares of the world. My mouth went dry. I believed that if he touched me then that I should shatter like crystal, I felt suddenly so fragile and vulnerable.

I was swept by another wave of that strange, smoldering fire, so strong and violent now that it was frightening, agonizing in its' intensity. I moistened my lips with my tongue and slowly, tremulously, my body swayed against his, drawn irresistibly to him by the nameless thing that had seized me so fiercely and now pulled me down into its dark, primeval flames.

I wanted this man. I realized suddenly then, that I wanted him with every fiber of my being. Of their own volition, my hands crept up around his neck, trembling. I lifted my face to his and brushed his mouth impetuously with mine. I probed his mouth with my tongue, tasting the subtle, smoky flavor of the whiskey we'd been drinking. My hands clasped his face, feeling the rough stubble of his beard. The abrasiveness was sweet.

Passion ignited in my body and then I felt as though I was running somewhere out of my body and he was reaching for me. He held me so tightly and he was whispering my name and he was kissing me and kissing me and God, he was such a good kisser and . . . stars everywhere and the pleasure, it was almost insane how good it felt. Wrapped in his arms and his kiss and his need and his love and I didn't want to him to leave . . . The world was far away. Far, far away with its sharpness and brightness and I wanted to stay with him . . .

"Lois, are you sure you want to do this? If not, then we need to stop. Now."

I opened my eyes and looked at his face and in that moment I felt as though I would die inside if I ever lost him. If he ever left me I would wither and scurry to the wind. I saw him in a way I had never seen him before . . . I saw him as a man I could love. . .

"Clark, tomorrow I am going to stay with your mom and your super friends are going off to face some terrible unknown beast. I may never see you again. If there is only one thing that living here in Weirds-ville has taught me, it's that life is too short for regrets. I have waited to long to act on my feelings for you. I want you."

"But Lo—"

"Clark, don't you want me?"

"Yes. Yes, for a long time now—for longer than I realized before tonight."

"Really?"

I grabbed his face again and pressed my lips against his. His mouth was hot against mine. I could almost taste the hunger of his kisses. I quickly unfastened the buttons of his shirt and slid my hands down the hard planes of his chest and abdomen.

I gasped when his fingers grazed over my breasts, my nipples pebbled even through the cotton of my pajamas. A firm tug took me by surprise, as he slid me closer to him, and before I could react, my pajama top was being pulled over my head.

"Lois."

"No regrets." I silenced him. There was that pesky Eagle Scout conscience of his. I was afraid to let him voice his objections again—to break the spell.

"Lois." He pleaded against my throat. _Clark, Shut UP_! "Let's go upstairs."

_Ohhh._ "Not yet." I said breathlessly.

"Okay. But we still need to change location." As he shifted against me, I felt the evidence of his need and I immediately understood what he was trying to tell me.

"Over by the fireplace."

With a grace that shocked and thrilled me, Clark lifted me and before I drew a second breath he was laying me gently on the floor in front of the fireplace. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, while his mouth was determined to feed from mine, our tongues hot and searching as desire mounted. His boldness was surprising, but not unwelcome, almost a natural postscript to the kisses we'd shared earlier. My body thrummed in response to the sweep of his fingers and hands across my skin.

His lips left mine to trail down the side of my cheek. I shivered when his teeth caught the edge of my earlobe, his breath hot and heavy, and I groaned out loud when his mouth found the bend of my neck and made its home there.

"Clark…," I breathed, but the firm pressure of his lips to mine silenced me, driving rational thought away and replacing it with sheer desire. Clarks' sensual lips and strong, supple hands wove their spell over me, and willingly I was enchanted. My mouth opened to him like an unfurling bud, my fingers tensed and splayed as they clutched his whipcord body, and I felt the power of the muscles that rippled beneath his flesh. I felt small and delicate in his embrace.

Without my noticing, the rest of our clothing somehow slipped away. Time turned—and kept turning, and still, Clark tasted me, touched me, his kisses growing ever more insistent; his hands bolder. His lips swallowed my breath, devoured me. His tongue stabbed me everywhere with its heat. His hands and fingers aroused in me both delight and longing, so my body ached unbearably, in a way I had never dreamed was possible.

The fire in hearth had died down, the smoldering embers popping and cracking, but I did not feel the chill, as I reveled in the warmth of Clark's body. The dark hair that matted his chest was fine as down beneath my palms and against the sensitive tips of my breasts. His broad back was smooth as satin, his thighs were like iron. Eagerly, I discovered him, explored him, mapped each line and every curve of him, and staked my claim on his body as he did mine.

He made love to me lingeringly, as though I was a rare flower that must be tenderly nurtured to bloom. My breasts were mounds of soft earth, molded by his palms. I clung to him as he clung to me. There was no part of me he did not know, nor any part of him that was untouched by me.

I quivered, molten with desire as he drank from the hot secret well of me until I moaned low in my throat and strove against him blindly, desperate in my need. Together, then, we lay, breast to breast, thigh to thigh, Clark's hands beneath me, arching my hips to meet his own until the stars fell from the heavens and crashed down around us.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Five weeks.

I hadn't seen him for five weeks and it was wearing on me. As he suggested, I had written in that blasted journal he gave me—but most of the time the entries were just angry ramblings. I was angry and I raged on and on about the injustice of it all; Jimmy, Chloe, my separation from Clark, my loneliness. _Oh how I raged._

I tore all those pages out and burned them. I didn't want to visit any of it again. It was all too, too painful--My emotions too raw laid bare on the pages for the entire world to see. I made quite a ritual of the destruction of the pages. I don't think I had ever done something quite so emotional or dramatic in my life. Maybe later I will regret it. Who knows? Who knows if any of it will matter much later?

It's funny to me now that I didn't realize it sooner. I should have seen the signs earlier, if I'd been paying attention. I should have been paying attention.

I had been so tired. After the nights I had spent waiting at the hospital, it seemed natural that I would be tired. And then there was the endless waiting in Washington; waiting to hear from Clark, waiting for word about Chloe, waiting for a change in Jimmy's' condition. In the weeks that followed it seemed the more I slept, the more tired I became.

I should have been alarmed when I saw the worried looks that Mrs. Kent gave me. Clark. Clark called me, worry evident in his voice. I still didn't know what to make of it. Was this just friendly concern, or was this something more?

That line of thinking had been tiring as well. I was the one that said no regrets. My words. Why were they now leaving a bitter taste on my tongue? Did I regret that night? The truth was that I had no clue what my feelings were. The only thing that I was certain about was that I was uncertain.

Clark was coming home.

_Home. _

They had found Chloe. She was in bad shape, but she would recover. Now that she was stable for transfer, Oliver had arranged for a med-evac to bring her to Star City where she would finish her convalesance. Clark was picking me up to take me to see her.

Everything could then start going back to normal again.

~*~*~

I dressed with care. I don't remember being this nervous about seeing a man in my life, but for some reason, it mattered very much to me how I looked for Clark. But, nothing seemed to fit right. All my blouses seemed too tight. How could I have gained this much weight? We had decided that it could be too dangerous for me to continue my daily running routine, but I didn't think I could have put on that much weight in just five weeks.

I finally settled on simple skirt and a blue tank top. It hugged my curves in such a way that it almost seemed scandalous. I decided to pair it with a button down blouse over it and left the top buttons undone, to camouflage the fact that the buttons pulled if fastened. It would have to do. There wasn't time to worry about changing. Clark was due to arrive any moment.

~*~*~

He arrived at the suite dressed in slacks, tie, and a sport coat. Not only was I underdressed for our date, I was unprepared. Had he always been this handsome?

He closed the distance between us in two long strides. He pulled me into a fierce embrace and swung me around before setting me down.

Had he always been this tall? How had I not noticed before?

He pulled back and looked into my eyes. He slid his hands over my hair and cupped my chin. His eyes seemed to sparkle.

"Were you always this beautiful?"

"Shut-up!"

"What? Can't I tell my girlfriend that I think she's beautiful?"

And then I lost my mind.

"Oh, so now I'm your girlfriend?" I pulled away from him angrily and began to pace, my heels pounding out a staccato against the tiles of the kitchen of the suite. "Just because you say so? You don't say a word about it all this time and then you're back for two seconds and you waltz in here and snap your fingers and just like that you expect me to come running and automatically fall into your arms like som—"

"Lois, I didn't snap my fingers."

"Hold on, mister! I've got the floor." I was jabbing him in the chest now.

"Lois, just calm down."

"You can't exp—"

He pulled me into his arms, crushing me to him. His lips were on mine before I could blink, effectively silencing my rant. He kissed me savagely, his mouth hungry and demanding. The scent of his skin assaulted my senses, the sharp tang of soap and aftershave made my nerve endings throb with a hunger that surprised me.

I leaned into him, pressing my lips to his. He cupped my face with his large hands as he devoured my mouth. His tongue was hot, and frenzied, its hunger matched only by the ferocity of his fingers as they slid to tangle in my hair.

He pulled back and looked at my face, his brows drawn in confusion. His thumb stretched to sweep across my cheekbone, just below my eye, and I was surprised to feel the wetness it trailed behind it. "I've handled this badly, just as I thought I would . . . but you must know . . . I never meant to hurt you. I . . . made you a promise, Lois, and there is nothing that could make me break it. Please, don't cry. Something inside me breaks when I think I might have caused you to cry."

My arms were around his neck at that, squeezing and holding him close, as if by letting him go, he'd disappear just as I'd thought he'd been planning. "I'm sorry," I blurted. "I just thought . . . and you were all . . . and you never said . . . it's been a really, really long, bad few weeks."

I felt him nod against my cheek. "Yes, I agree," Clark said. "Let's not talk of it? Let's jus--"

It was my turn to cut him off, my lips slid back to his to devour him in another kiss. Along the length of my body, I could feel him responding, hardening and lengthening inside his pants until the evidence of his desire pressed achingly against my hip, his hands falling from my face to curl with need into my waist. He did want me, that much was obvious, and the fear that I would be reliving what happened with Oliver quickly dissipated.

Muscle by muscle, sinew by sinew, my body relaxed into his, until by the time he pulled away from the kiss, I felt boneless, ready to be led wherever he might lead.

It was amazing.

_Oh yeah, I'm his girlfriend. _

"Lois, if you kiss me like that again, I won't be able to leave for another two hours."

"We could have a late dinner."

"You're the boss."

"And you'd better not forget it."

"Yes, Ma'am."

~*~

Somehow, we made our way onto the couch. I'm still not sure how it happened.

"Lois," he whispered against my skin, the single word floating up to break through the clouds that were forming inside my head.

"Clark . . .," but the firm pressure of his lips silenced me again, driving rational thought away and replacing it with sheer desire. My body thrummed in response to the sweep of his fingers across my skin.

I gasped aloud when his hands grazed over my breasts, my nipples instantly pebbling into rock-hard nubs when his fingers brushed them through the layers of clothing and the lacy fabric of my bra.

"No words tonight," I pleaded. "There's been far too much talk today, and right now, I need . . . I want to just forget everything else." His hand brushed back the hair from my brow, his gaze sweeping over my face as if he was trying to memorize every angle and curve.

I could feel that my lips were swollen from the fervor of our last kiss. I was rewarded with a small smile, and I pulled him even closer so that our chests were touching, my bottom resting in his lap. "Let's just say we've both had bummers of a day and let it go at that. No more words. Please?"

When his lips parted to speak, I lifted my fingers and lightly covered his mouth. "No more words," and leaned forward to kiss him softly.

My fingers entwined with the loose curls at the nape of his neck, scratching lightly at his skull, I almost giggled when it elicited an uncharacteristic growl from his throat.

Clark's hold tightened, and before I could stop him, he had pushed my skirt up and out of his way as his hand sought the cleft between my legs. I gasped as he pushed past my underwear to graze a single fingertip across my clit. I exhaled when that same finger coated itself in my wetness before slipping inside.

The urge to say his name was stifled by the return of his mouth and I joined him in deepening the kiss. Our tongues curled and explored around the other, the impulse for more, and more, and more, fending off any more doubts about what either of us wanted at that particular moment.

Clark's muscles quivered with anticipation, his skin hot as I pulled at the fabric that still covered his back. My only thought was to rid ourselves of the barriers that kept our bodies apart, and when he finally broke free of my mouth, I pushed him upright.

He didn't say a word, only watched as I set to undoing the buttons of his shirt. I slid my hands up beneath the tail of his shirt, kneading the muscles before I pushed the fabric up onto his shoulders. He broke apart from me just long enough to slide the offending garment off, his eyes never leaving my face. As soon as he'd tossed it behind me, his mouth returned to me, this time to nibble and taste at the hollow of my throat.

When my fingernails caught on his nipple, his eyes fluttered shut, his head dropping back as the sensations washed over him. I could see the pulse pounding in the sculpted hollow of his throat, and impulsively, I leaned forward to press my lips to him, sucking gently as his skin throbbed beneath my tongue.

His reaction was electric. With a jolt that jarred both of us, Clark latched onto my waist and pulled me down on top of him, his free hand releasing his erection from his trousers. I felt the slick tip of his cock nudge against my underwear, hard and hungry. When I broke from the kiss he'd once again initiated, I stared into his eyes as he sat up, hands disappearing beneath my clothes as they worked to strip the last obstacle between us. His hands slid up to cup my ass, grinding his cock against me roughly, and I moaned from the starburst of sensation that erupted like a psychedelic kaleidoscope inside my head.

His fingers tightened to an almost painful grip as he pulled me up again, the tip of his cock nudging between my slick folds. With one smooth motion, Clark pushed my hips back down, forcing me to take his full length in a single stroke, leaving both of us breathless and quivering as we stayed suspended for what seemed like forever.

I leaned in to kiss him again. Our tongues tangled in a slow weave, my fingers coiled in his raven locks to keep him close as I began riding him, up and down, in a steady tempo, using his body and his strength as leverage for every squeeze and pull. I felt like I was floating, my body felt buoyant and light, and every stroke filled me just a little bit deeper.

"Tell me." My voice was ragged, choking on my own need, as I looked at his face.

"Tell you what?" He asked softly, not once breaking our rhythm.

"Tell me that you think I'm beautiful."

"You really have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" he whispered huskily as his gaze swept slowly over me. "Or how much I want you?"

He captured my lips with his in a kiss that echoed my own need, his tongue tracing the camber of my mouth. His lips continued their ardent attack on my throat and breasts.

"Lois," he whispered reverently as he dropped tender kisses all over my cheeks, eyelids and throat. "Beautiful, beautiful Lois , . ." he whispered again and again. The timbre of his deep voice, affected me as profoundly as the things he was doing to me. His mouth found my breast, teasing the taut peak, then closing tightly around it, drawing hard until I was gasping, arching my back and clasping his head to my breasts as the first wave of an orgasm crested and broke over me.

Shivers of delight raced through my body. Despite the need I felt building, I responded to the need I heard in his throaty whispers. Clutching at him, my face buried against his corded neck, I felt as if my body were on fire, kindled and smoldering. Just when I thought I might ignite from within, desire surging through my veins like molten magma, Clark shifted us once again, driving his shaft deeper inside me still—deeper than I thought possible. His face was hard and dark with passion and I noticed a pulse throbbing in his temple as he fought to hold himself back.

Quick, piercing stabs of desire were jarring my body as I moved with him, mindlessly seeking the pinnacle. "Clark" my sultry whisper fueled his passion and he quickened his deep, insistent strokes. The pulsing deep in my body suddenly exploded in a wild cataclysm that racked my body with wave after wave of sensation. My spasms clasped him, clenching and pulling his engorged shaft. Clark's breathing was erratic, his heart thundering as he drove into me with deep, unrelenting strokes. Pushed to the brink of his control, his body quaking with is own need, he climaxed with a feral growl.

I collapsed against him overcome with the exertion of our lovemaking and overwrought with the emotions that had been wreaking havoc on me for weeks and silently wept.


	4. Chapter 4

I woke up and found myself sprawled across Clark's broad chest. He was gently rubbing small circles over my back. I looked up at him through my lashes. The room was dark—we had moved to my bedroom. Moonlight shone through the large sliding glass doors that led to a balcony, casting his sculpted features in a bluish relief.

"So, I guess this means you're my boyfriend."

I felt the rumble of his chest as he chuckled.

"Lo, now that we've got that out of the way, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

It was easier now to talk to him. In the half-light of the moon, I convinced myself that he wouldn't be able to read my emotions so well, that he wouldn't know how vulnerable I felt.

"Why were you so upset with me earlier?"

"Earlier?"

"Yes, earlier tonight. You were spitting mad."

"I don't know. . . . I mean, after that night, I wasn't sure where things were gonna go. We didn't talk about it and then you were gone. . . and then I didn't hear from you very much—"

"Lo, I called you as often as I could."

He did call often—much more often than before, and he practically emailed me every day. Why was I being so weird about this?

"I know, I know. It's just . . . I was lonely . . . and worried."

"You were worried about me?"

"Maybe a little." I admitted. He was quiet for a moment and then he shifted my body up so that he could look into my eyes. He threaded the fingers of his right hand in my left hand. I could feel his breath caressing my cheek when he spoke again.

"Lois, you have to know that I am not the kind of man that would enter into this kind of relationship and treat it lightly."

"You're right, I do know that about you. I don't know why I was so upset—chalk it up to cabin fever or something. I've been going stir-crazy here waiting and wondering what's been happening. I was beginning to think I was cracking up—I could swear at some points I was actually hearing voices."

"Yeah? What did the voices say?"

"Not like that. Not voices—just voice. One. I don't know what it was. Forget about it."

"C'mon, tell me about it. I want to know."

I hesitated.

"What does the voice sound like?"

"Are you making fun of me? You think I'm losing it."

"No, not at all. I mean, does the voice sound like it's afraid, or vengeful?"

"You mean like a ghost or something?"

"Yeah, something like that. "

"I don't know, I'm not explaining it right."

"C'mon, try again."

"OK. It was like when I was alone and feeling sad, I would just get a feeling—an impression of a voice telling me not to be sad. Or if I was worried, the voice was telling me not to worry, that everything was going to be fine."

"That doesn't sound so bad. It actually sounds helpful. Like this 'voice' cares about you and is worried about you."

"Yeah, well, the problem is that the voice keeps getting stronger. Before I only felt the information. Now I am actually hearing a voice."

"Leave it to Lois Lane to have the only conscience that speaks out loud to her."

I smacked him as hard as I could with the pillow. He retaliated by tickling me and then hugging me close to his chest and kissing my forehead.

"C'mon, I'm kidding. Don't worry Lois. We'll work this problem out. I bet there is a scientific explanation for it. There usually is."

I traced the outline of his jaw, lazily stroking the slight cleft in his chin with my thumb. His eyes were dark with desire, almost black in the shadows of the moonlit room. I pressed my mouth to his and sucked on his bottom lip. It was a slow duet, an aching tangle of tongues as we each explored one another, savoring the experience as if this was our first time. My heart skipped when I heard a primal growl erupt from his lips. I felt his hands sliding over my skin, singeing me, overwhelming my senses. Lost in the crush of his kiss, the rest of the world seemed to melt away.

His lips were on my ear, tongue darting out to trace the inner curve. My eyes fluttered closed as Clark caught the lobe between his teeth, biting it gently. His hands deftly traced the contours of my throat, my collar bone, my shoulder, pressing me closer to him, molding my body into his, demanding, entreating, in answer to my own ravenous need. I whimpered aloud when I felt his mouth trace a path down the column of my throat.

My nipples brushed against his granite chest, instantly hardening at the contact. I felt the brush of his palms against my swollen breasts, and trembled as he trailed a fiery path of hot, wet kisses over my skin. His dark head dipped lower, taking one puckered bud into his mouth, sucking fiercely, causing me to groan and writhe against him wantonly.

He stilled abruptly.

"Shh."

"Don't shush me. I can't he—"

He covered my mouth with his hand, which had the immediate effect of raising my ire.

"Lois, please. I think there is someone trying to get in the apartment. Stay here. " I nodded, finally understanding his brusqueness and watched him pull on his slacks and shirt as he slunk out into the living room.

~*~*~

Moments later I heard an exchange of voices and then the tinkling laughter of Martha Kent. I exhaled the breath I wasn't aware I'd been holding. I slipped into pajamas and went to join them in the kitchen when I smelled coffee brewing. I suddenly realized how hungry I was, since we missed having dinner.

Mrs. Kent was turned away from me and Clark was standing next to her leaning against the counter, facing me. His hair was disheveled—he looked like he'd been sleeping. I supposed that was the story he'd given his mother.

She turned to me and called a greeting, remarking on how I still looked tired and wondered if I was feeling better—I'd been suffering from a stomach virus off and on for the past few weeks.

"Yes, I am feeling a bit better. It was the smell of fresh coffee that drew me out here."

Clark started gesturing to me, pulling his shirt collar together and making faces. I had no idea what he was trying to tell me, and I was sure that my lack of understanding was evident on my face. He gave up trying to get me to understand his pantomime.

"Lois, there's a draft in here. Why don't you go get your robe?"

"Clark, I'm fine."

"I'd hate for you to have a relapse or to catch a cold. Let me get it for you. It's on the chair next to your bed, right?" He dashed into my room and brought the garment in question to me and wrapped me in it while I continued to protest.

"There, that's much better. Believe me, you'll thank me later."

"But I'm _really _not cold!"

"If you're trying to cover up that hickie on Lois' neck, you needn't bother about it—I already saw it."

I could feel the color flooding my cheeks.

"How--?" Clark stammered.

"Oh Clark, I'm not stupid. Besides, your shirt buttons are mismatched."

"Way to go, Smallville."

"Me? Remind me to never to be on your team in charades."

"Oh, like I am supposed to know that this," I clasped the lapels of my robe together tightly and pulled a face, "is the international symbol for cover-up-that-hickie-before-my-mom-figures-out-that-we've-been-shagging-like-bunnies.'!"

"O-kay. I did not need to know that." Martha said evenly.

"Lo-is" Clark snapped at me. Only then did I realize what I had just said.

"I really said that out loud, didn't I?"

"Yes. You really did."

"Oh God!" and then I turned and ran from the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Lois!" Clark bellowed and pounded on the door to the bathroom.

"Go away!" I groaned and emptied my stomach again. I placed my arm on the edge of the toilet seat and let my head rest against the crook of my elbow while I waited for the next wave of nausea to crest over me.

"C'mon Lois, open the door."

"Please . . . just leave me alone." I croaked.

"Open the door before I break it down." Clark commanded.

"It's not locked, you idiot." I managed to whisper before I threw up again. I tried to ignore him. I felt him as he knelt beside me and pulled my hair back away from my face.

"Oh, why won't you go away? You know I don't want you to see me like this."

"Like I haven't seen you like this before."

I groaned again as I remembered that he had, in fact, held my hair the last time I took a ride down the porcelain highway—the night of Chloe and Jimmys' engagement party. "Does my humiliation have no end?"

"Stop being so melodramatic. You can't help this. You're sick, I can see that." He got up from the floor, grabbed a washcloth and went to the sink and opened the faucet.

"How can I make you understand that I am mortified?" _Don't be mad at him—he cares about us._ I heard the voice clearly in my head. "Oh, be quiet" I scolded under my breath.

"I didn't say anything." He stated, perplexed.

"I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to . . . "

"The voice?"

I nodded.

"What did it say?" He asked as he placed the washcloth on the back of my neck.

"It said not to be mad at you."

"I think I like this voice of yours."

I stuck my tongue out at him. He laughed and then helped me off the floor.

"Can I get you anything? I could go get some crackers, gingerale, chicken soup?"

"Yes. All those things would be great."

"Ok, I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." He kissed my forehead and left the room. I couldn't help but smile after him.

~*~*~

I was thinking about the surreal way in which my new relationship with Clark was unfolding as I vigorously brushed my teeth and tongue. My thoughts were interrupted when I heard the knob turn and the door open of the outer room.

"You're back al--?"

"No, Clark isn't back yet. It's me." Mrs. Kent answered. "I told Clark I would check on you. He's very worried."

I felt my cheeks flush all over again. _Suck it up Lois, You'll have to face her sooner or later._ I came further into the bedroom. "Mrs. Kent, I'm so sorry about before."

"Honey, don't worry about it." She met me in the middle of the room and took my hand. "I don't want you think about it anymore. Let's pretend it didn't happen. Okay?" I nodded and let her lead me over to the chaise located below the giant picture window. "I'm just glad you finally found each other."

"Really?"

"Lois, you're like the daughter I never had. I think it's wonderful that you and Clark are dating.

Why wouldn't I be happy about that?"

"I don't know." I looked down at my hands and studied my cuticles. She covered my hand with hers, effectively pulling me out of my reverie.

"What's got you worried? You know you can talk to me about anything."

"I know." I thought for a long minute and then swallowed hard. Maybe it would help to talk to somebody about this. "Mrs. K., I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what sweetheart? Are you afraid Clark will hurt you?"

"No . . . not really. I' m more worried that I'll hurt him."

"Oh?"

"I mean, It's just that I'm not _that_ girl. I'm love-her-and-leave-her –Lois. I'm not the girl that guys stick with. I'm totally not his type. And we're so different; He's milk, I'm tequila. He's Mr. Pollyanna—he always sees the good in _everybody_. Meanwhile, I'm Ms. Cynic. I mean, how's that gonna work? What if I ruin him?"

"Oh honey, I think maybe you're _exactly_ what he needs."

"Ya think?" I asked, recalling the way that Ollie had told me something similar just 5 weeks earlier.

"Yes, I do." She pulled me to her and hugged me. In that instant I felt complete contentment—I felt the most intense feeling of love from Mrs. Kent wash over me and I swear I heard the little voice inside me squeal with joy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

I decided to take a shower after Martha left my room. The hot water felt so good—both refreshing and soothing. I realized how tired I was and how sore my muscles were—a combination of many restless nights and whatever flu bug this was that I didn't seem to be able to kick. I was just twisting my hair into a towel as Clark returned with my relief kit.

I settled down at the small table I'd been using as a desk and savored the delicious broth. I was so hungry that I actually felt as though this was the most delicious chicken soup I had ever tasted. As I ate, Clark began to pack my clothing, as he wanted to get an early start in the morning. Star City was a long drive from Washington, DC.

"Lois, what are these? Do they have anything to do with your being sick?" He held up a pill bottle that he had taken out of the medicine cabinet.

"They're antibiotics. I was taking them for that sinus infection I had right before Chloe and Jimmys' wedding."

"And you still have some left? That was over a month ago."

"I felt better so I stopped taking them. No big deal."

"It is a big deal. Antibiotics lose their efficacy if you don't finish them. Your body builds resistance to the infection and it's that much harder to heal the next time. "

"You are such a boy scout! Are you going to rat me out to the prescription police?"

He rolled his eyes at me and said; "Do you want me to pack them or not?"

"Not."

"Okay." He tossed them in the trash can and continued to root through the medicine cabinet, carefully gathering my things. I was happy to not have to pack my own stuff. I hate packing.

~*~*~

The morning sun streamed hard and bright through the large picture window of the room, and I rolled away from the offending brightness.

"C'mon sleepy head, time to get up."

"Ugh, go away. Who turned on the sun so early?" I pulled the duvet cover over my head and snuggled deeper down, trying to block out the intrusive sun. I didn't remember going to bed—only that I was sleepy.

"Lois, we've got to get going. We have a long drive ahead of us."

"Five more minutes?"

"You've been asking for five more minutes for the last half-an-hour. You can sleep in the car."

"Pleaaaase. Just five more." I pleaded.

"Ok. I'm loading the car. When I get back, you're getting up or I'm dragging you out of bed."

~*~*~

We stopped into a diner about two hours in to have breakfast. One of those retro joints stuffed with vibrant washes of pink and teal, against a black-and-white tiled floor in a checkerboard pattern. There was a neon juke box in the corner and glass cases displaying home-made pies on the counter. It reminded me of something out of a sit-com and I half expected a waitress dressed in pink with a neck scarf, attitude and a southern drawl to saunter over and take our orders. Instead a young girl in her early twenties came to take our orders.

Clark asked me to order first, but I was undecided so I asked him to go. All the while, our waitress—'Sandy' (probably not her real name) openly ogled him. He ordered orange juice, and the lumberjack breakfast, which looked like it would be an incredible amount of food, even by Clark standards. I ordered orange juice and a cheeseburger with onions.

"Lo-is?" Clark sing-songed.

"What?"

"Orange juice and a cheeseburger together? Yuk."

"I need vitamin C."

"it's no wonder that you are throwing up, if you are going to eat like that."

"Shut-up."

I don't think an hour had passed before we were pulled over and I was emptying the contents of my stomach into the tall grass along the roadside. I'll be damned if he wasn't right.

"Don't say it." I groaned out to him as he crouched behind me, keeping me steady.

"Say what?'

"I told you so."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"OH _really_? I know you were going to say something.--Spit it out, Smallville."

"I was going to say that you need to see a doctor."

"I hate going to the doctor." I groaned.

"I know, but I'm worried about you. I know I teased you earlier about the cheeseburger and the OJ, but you always eat that way. This is getting serious. "

"Okay," I said as I wiped at my mouth. "I'll go. But I want to see Chloe first."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"There must be a mistake. I can't be pregnant. I'm taking birth control." I told the doctor in as even a voice as I could manage.

"The tests we have now are very accurate. In fact, when they are wrong, it is most often a false negative and not the other way around, but we will draw some blood to be sure." The doctor had the MA take my blood. I was surprised that I didn't see my blood boiling in the vacutainer. As soon as she left the room I threw open the door bellowing for Clark. I didn't care if I made a scene.

"Lois? What is it? What did the doctor say?" Clark wore panic on his face like a mask.

I'm pregnant." I said flatly.

"How?"

"Didn't they even teach sex-ed in that po-dunk high school of yours?" I said acidly.

"Lois, I know how babies are made. How is it that you are pregnant? I thought you were taking birth control.

"Oh, don't you DARE blame this on me! You did this to me. You and that Wierds-ville town you live in, where every day is Freaky Friday. This is your fault!" I started poking him in the chest. "

"Lo-is" He tried to take my hand and I slapped it away. He tried again to take my hands and I slapped at him and then I just started blindly hitting him. I don't remember what else I said or the exact sequence of events. I heard the door open at some point and the doctor ask something of Clark, but he must have waved him off because he went away. I didn't notice what he said as I continued to rail against him.

"Don't. Don't touch me. I hate that stupid town. I hate Smallville." Tears were coursing down my cheeks. He just stood there and took it. Took the abuse I was dishing out. Took it as I called him names and cursed him.

_Mommy, please don't cry. It hurts us when you're upset. Daddy is worried. _ I heard the voice clearly and in that instant I finally had clarity. I wonder still if my bewilderment showed on my face. I was feeling a bit lightheaded and I sagged against Clark in defeat.

"Shh. It's okay." He smoothed my hair and hugged me close to him. "We're in this together. I won't let you go through this alone."

The doctor came back in to let us know the results of the blood work, but I already knew the truth now. I couldn't tell the doctor that my baby had been talking to me. I tuned out as the doctor was giving pamphlets and information to Clark.

"Do you have any questions, Ms. Lane?" The doctor was asking.

"What could have happened to make this possible? I have taken these pills religiously."

"Are you taking any other prescription medications? There are some that have contraindications with birth control pills, causing them to lose their efficacy."

"No, I don't take any other drugs."

"Lois, what about those antibiotics that I found in your medicine cabinet earlier?"

"Antibiotics? How long ago were you taking those?"

"I started taking them in mid November--About six weeks ago."

"You've just answered your own question."

"Are you kidding me?"

"It is one of the contraindications for oral contraception. It doesn't happen often, but it can happen. You will need to stop taking your birth control pills right away, so as not to cause any harm to your baby. And I do suggest that you schedule an appointment with an Obstetrician right away so that you can discuss your options."

"Options?" Clark asked.

"If you are considering terminating the pregnancy, then you'd better do it sooner than later."

"Terminate?" Clark and I both asked in unison.

"Absolutely NOT!" Clark said sharply as he stepped behind me and slipped his hand around my waist, as if shielding the baby from harm. I was relieved to hear him say it. I shouldn't have been surprised that he would feel so strongly about abortion, but it was a relief just the same. I already regretted saying the hurtful things I said earlier, but I couldn't take back my words. It was good to know that he would stand by me—regardless of my behavior.

"Ms. Lane seemed so distressed with this news that I thought that perhaps she would be interested in knowing some of her other options."

"It's not an option." I whispered, my throat felt raw from crying and throwing up. How could I even think that was an _option_, as he put it? My baby—our baby was a living part of me and actually spoke to me. And in that moment I made a promise; I would never do anything or allow anyone to harm this baby.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

We were both quiet for a long time on the ride to Smallville. I stared absently out my window and barely noticed as the landscape morphed from city skyline gradually flattening out into lush green landscapes and sprawling farms. I had a feeling that Clark had plenty to say, but didn't know where to start. I felt the same way. I was grateful that we had seen Chloe before I met with the doctor—I'm sure that I wouldn't have been able to keep my distress hidden. And to think, I actually got Clark to agree to keep our relationship a secret awhile. He didn't want to keep us a secret, especially from Chloe. I understood his reasons, but I felt more than a little guilty that we found such happiness together in the middle of the chaos. So he finally agreed that we could keep us a secret a little longer. It didn't matter now what my motives were, our secret would be public soon enough.

At length he spoke, his deep voice breaking into my thoughts; a beacon in the sea of my storm-tossed emotions.

"Lo, you okay over there?"

"Can I let you know in about seven and a half months?"

He took my hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze and cast me a coy smile. I began to think of this as my smile—a smile that he gave only to me. Odd, how comforting that was, how so much tenderness and understanding could pass between us with such simple gestures.

I squeezed his hand in return and then, without warning a tear slid down my cheek. I turned my head and looked out the window, hoping that he wouldn't notice, but it was no use. He pulled over onto a secluded field and killed the ignition. He opened his door and got out of the truck. With the door still open, he motioned for me to follow him.

"C'mon, let's get some fresh air."

I slid across the seat and took his hand, letting him help me down. He pulled me into his arms, wrapping them around me and just held me. I don't know how long we stood there just holding each other. When I was in his arms, I felt safe and protected, like nothing could ever go wrong.

"I never thought I would ever say this," Clark said, "but you're too quiet. Talk to me, tell me what's on your mind."

I hesitated. I didn't know if I could assemble my tumultuous thoughts into coherent sentences. He was patient, and quietly waited for me to find my voice.

"I don't know if I can do this." I whispered into his shoulder. He pulled away from me slightly so that he could look at my face.

"Lois," he took a deep breath, he seemed to be measuring his words carefully. "I know this was unplanned and I understand that getting this news has been upsetting . . . but I can't . . . that is, I don't want you to terminate this pregnancy. If you don't want to raise the baby, I guess I'll understand. But . . . I very much want this. I . . . I'll raise the baby myself. Maybe my mom could help me . . . but I want our baby. Please, I'm begging you. Please, please don't change your mind."

"Oh Clark," I grabbed his face between my hands. How had I given him such a wrong impression? "Clark . . . You misunderstand. I want to keep the baby. I just. . . . It's just that I don't know how to do this. I can't even keep a gold fish or a house plant alive. This is a baby! . . . I'm just _so_ afraid that I'll screw this up." Another tear rolled down my cheeks. He caught it with his thumb.

"Honey, please don't be upset." He kissed my cheeks, kissing my tears away and pulled me to him once again. "I told you before, we're in this together. I won't let you face this alone." I didn't say anything as he rained gentle kisses on my cheeks and nose. "Trust me?"

"Yes, of course. It's just . . . This is huge Clark. This is going change our lives. We're never going back to normal again."

"True."

"Are you sure you are ready for that kind of commitment? We're brand new—and now this."

"I can't think of anyone else I would rather have a baby with."

And that was all the assurance I needed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Hi. Muffin?"

_Was he serious? _

"How dare you call me that and remind me of that day when we were held hostage by that sicko. I mean some good natured teasing is one thing, but this is beyond cruel. How would you like it if I called you poodle?"

"What?" He stared at me with a bewildered expression.

"I mean it Clark. I never thought you had a mean streak. Why would you say such a thing to me? You know I am really going through something and you know that—".

"Lo-"

"Well, don't just stand there gawking at me like an idiot. What have you got to say for yourself?"

"Would you like a blueberry muffin? I baked them while you were asleep." He set the confection in question before and poured a tall glass of milk for me.

"And about calling me poodle . . ." I looked at him over the rim of glass.

"Never call me that. In fact, that should be a code word; If you call me that, I'll know you're in trouble."

"You know that's not a bad idea. These muffins are wonderful."

"Was that one of those pregnancy mood swings I've been reading about? Kinda weird."

I rolled my eyes at him.

"You know, if you keep doing that your eyes are going to stay that way."

"Shut up and give me another muffin."

"It's a good thing I think you're adorable, or I might object to you being so bossy."

He came around the table and kissed my forehead. As he moved to walk away from me, I pulled him back to me and pressed my lips against his, threading my hands through his thick black hair, drawing his mouth to me, savoring the feel of his warm lips as they moved over mine. His lips left mine and trailed over my cheek, one hand cupping my chin, the other caressing my back, pressing me closer to him. I shivered when his teeth caught the edge of my earlobe, his breath hot and heavy. It had been too long since he had made love to me, and I missed the feel of lips against my skin, missed the way his large hands tangled in my hair, missed the feel of his body pressed against mine, missed the way he would tenderly hold me after our love-making until I fell asleep.

"Clark?" I whispered, my voice husky with desire.

Before he could answer we were interrupted by a knock at the door.

~*~*~

"Clark, what's keeping you?" I rounded the corner into the living room and could not believe my eyes.

Clark took my arm and said: "Professor, I'd like you to meet m—"

"Chief Willowbrook? Is that you?"

"_Runs with the Braves_, is that really you? Look how you have grown!" I hadn't heard anyone call me by that name in a long time—not since before my mother had died. Tears pooled in my eyes as I was pulled into a bear hug by my old friend and kinsman, Chief Joseph Willowbrook.

"You know each other?" Clark asked, very surprised.

I pulled away from Joseph and nodded. "My great grandmother was Kawatche"

"Yes, _Talking Water_ was my Aunt." Joseph informed Clark.

"Which makes us cousins or something." I never could keep those complex relationships straight.

"Professor Willowbrook, come in and sit down." Clark invited.

"Chief, what brings you out this way? It can't be to see me, since you didn't know I lived here."

"You live here? With Clark?" That seemed to take him by surprise, but he didn't pursue the matter any further and sat down on a chair in the den. Clark and I took our seats beside one another on the sofa. "Clark was my assistant when he attended Central Kansas College. Clark actually helped our people quite a bit. He discovered the caves containing our history."

"Clark, who knew you were this cool?" I teased. Normally he would have favored me with one of his smiles, but not this time. He seemed a bit tense by the Chiefs' visit. I wrote it off to him being too immersed in what Joseph was saying.

"Last night at a meeting of the Tribal Council, one of our Elders; _Red Eagle_, had a vision." Joseph continued to tell us. "The vision was cloudy. We passed the pipe and summoned the spirits. We then all had the vision, but the meaning was still unclear. I thought that if I came and discussed it with Clark, he might be able to help shed some light on this mystery." Clark shot the Chief a peculiar look, but the reason for it didn't register with me—I was more interested in what the Chief had to say.

"How can Smallville help you figure out the visions?" I asked.

"Maybe he wants an outsiders' perspective, Lois." Clark offered. Now it was the Chiefs' turn shoot Clark a strange look.

"Do you remember the stories of Naman?" Joseph asked, and I swear I heard Clark groan under his breath.

"Sure." I did have an abstract and somewhat vague memory of the old stories—a visitor from the stars united with the Mother and gave birth to the Kawatchee people. And then there was the prophecy that one day Naman would return and be a savoir to the Kawatchee people. "A messiah story, just like the Hebrews—still still waiting for their Messiah to arrive."

"Those aren't just fairy tales—these are the history of our people." Joseph chided me.

"Well, if Naman is coming to save the Kawatchee, he had better hurry up and do it before there aren't any Kawatchee left."

"I used to think that Naman was to save only our people, but now I have realized that he is here to help all people—not just the Kawatchee." He had always believed the legends. He never doubted them, that much I knew about him. But now Chief Willowbrook wore the look of a devout follower who has witnessed a miracle first-hand and had his faith reaffirmed. "Naman has come. He walks among us now."

"Really? A traveler from the stars landed here on Earth?" I asked incredulously.

"Well, where Has he been hiding?"

"He's not hiding. He's around every day. You've even written articles about him. He is your _Red-Blue Blur_."

_Son-of-a-bitch._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 **

_Mommy, why is daddy upset? _I didn't have an answer to that. I hadn't noticed that he was upset, but the evidence was clear. I was beginning to understand that the baby could feel our emotions and whenever we were upset, then she was—which usually led to me running to pray at the porcelain altar. I made my excuses, as discreetly as I could manage, and then ran to the bathroom to empty my stomach and try to console the baby. I was in no shape to rejoin the conversation, and I desperately wanted to hear more about the dreams that the tribal Elders had been having. I don't know why, but I felt as though they concerned me, somehow.

~*~*~

As I came out onto the landing, I heard a hushed conversation between Clark and Chief Willowbrook--a conversation that apparently was not meant for my ears. Some might say it was my reporters' instincts that had me eavesdropping and others would say I am just insanely nosy. Either way, my curiosity was piqued. For the life of me, I could not understand what would cause one of the wisest men of the Kawatchee Nation to seek out Clarks' 'perspective' on the dreams.

"You haven't told her, have you?" the Chief asked , his tone stern and scolding.

"No, not yet." Clark admitted sheepishly. I wished I could see the expression on his face so that I might be able to put this conversation in a better context. But I had to stay put, if I moved any further down the stairs, I would be spotted.

"What are you waiting for? You must tell her. She deserves to know."

"I want to tell her. "

"So what is stopping you?"

"I want the timing to be right."

"Clark," Joseph paused, perhaps to phrase his words for impact. "Clark, I am glad that you are finally accepting your destiny. Now is not the time to turn away from your responsibility."

"I'm not turning away from it. It's just . . . I don't want to upset Lois—especially right now."

"She's carrying your child, isn't she?" _How the hell did he know that? _

"How did you know?"

"The child is telepathic. There is an aura surrounding Lois. My Aunt also had an aura of the same color."

I don't know why this information was a shock to me. I should have been able to make that connection earlier. _Talking Water_ was my Great-Grandmother, and I knew she was a telepath—I think I always knew. I guess I never thought there was a possibility that one of my children might inherit her gifts. I didn't think I had enough Kawatchee blood for that to happen.

"All right Clark. I'll let you do it your way. But don't wait too long, or your baby will wind up telling her before you do." _Crap! What had I missed?_

"Yes, sir. I will tell her. Soon."

Tell me what? My head was spinning. What was this big secret that had Joseph so concerned? What destiny? I had to pull myself together and get down there.

"I think I will leave you now so that you and Lois can have your talk."

Or not.

"Professor Willowbrook, what about the visions?"

"There is another prophesy."

"Why does that not surprise me? Does it involve a Destroyer?"

"What makes you ask that?"

"Have you seen this symbol?" I heard a rustle as Clark handed Joseph a piece of paper. I couldn't see it from my perch on the landing. I heard Joseph inhale sharply when he unfolded the paper.

"Clark, where have you seen this?"

"Judging by the look on your face, this symbol is as bad as I feared."

"It is forbidden for my people to utter the name associated with this symbol."

"I was told it was the symbol for doom." So, Clark did know a thing or two about the cave symbols—he was just full of surprises.

"It's more than that Clark, it represents the one who will destroy Naman." I must have shrieked aloud, because right then both Clark and Joseph turned to look up at me.

"Lois, there you are. I was beginning to worry about you." Clark said. I expected that if he caught me he would call me on it and ask if I 'wouldn't be more comfortable seated in a chair, instead of crouching down and trying to hide behind the banister.' When I looked at his face, he seemed very sincere in his worry of me and the child inside me--the one that was busy reading every ones thoughts and emotions made me understand that the concern in his face was genuine and that he did not suspect that I had been shamelessly eavesdropping. Again.

I reclaimed my seat on the couch and Clark and Chief Willowbrook, who had risen at my entrance, reclaimed their own seats.

"Chief Willowbrook, I didn't mean to interrupt. I caught the tail end of your conversation. You were about to tell Clark about a Kawatchee prophesy." Joseph eyed me warily, as though he was on to me and knew that I had overheard quite a bit more of their conversation. Instead of outing me, he continued."

"Yes, Lois. It is true. There is another prophesy. It tells of how Naman will take a wife from the Kawatchee people."

"Wait, I know about this. There's a bracelet that is in our family that The One He Is Destined To Be With will wear. Kila used to wear that bracelet. What ever happened to it?"

"I gave it to Naman."

"You've SEEN him? You KNOW him?" I was incredulous. It was one thing to learn that Naman and Metropolosis' newest do-gooder were one and the same, but to find out that my Great Uncle knew him was almost surreal. "When can I meet him?" He stared at me for a moment. "Oh please Uncle, you have to let me meet him. I want to interview him."

"Interview him???" Clark asked, and he seemed shocked at my enthusiasm. I don't know why he would be surprised that I would want to interview him. I mean, it's what I_ do._ The wheels in my head were spinning in all directions. I was already formulating the questions I wanted to ask him.

"Of course I want to interview him. I want the REAL story; Has he got a family? Where does he live? Why the red and blue combo? Why is he going around doing all these good deeds? Where does he come from? Has he got a girlfriend? What's his favorite ball team?"

"Gee, you don't wan't much at all, do you? Professor, I think Lois has had enough excitement for one day. She needs to get some rest now."

"Aw Clark, you really gonna shut me down—just like that?"

"Just for now. You'll get your interview. I promise. Right Chief?" Joseph nodded his head in agreement. " But not right now. I think the stress would be too much for you in your current condition. "

"Oh, all right. But, can we let Uncle Joseph tell the rest of his story before you send me off to my room." I know he wanted to roll his eyes at me, but he resisted and nodded to Joseph signaling that he should continue.

"The visions of the Elders were confounding us because we thought it was about Naman, but we kept seeing a child and we know that Naman is now a man. Coming here has helped me to understand. This vision isn't about Naman, but about his offspring."

"How has coming here helped you to realize that?" I wondered aloud. I still didn't see a connection.

"I think that once Professor Willowbrook realized we were expecting a child, it opened his mind to the possibility that these visions could involve Namans' children."

"Yes, Clark is right. I hadn't considered that the visions could involve the fulfillment of the other part of the prophesy until I learned that you two were expecting a child." My uncle said in response to Clark. I could tell they were speaking the truth, or the baby would have reacted. Still, their non-verbals were killing me.

The excitement of the afternoon began to take a toll on me and I let out a loud yawn.

"I'll take that as my cue to leave you now." I apologized, as I tried to stifle another yawn. Uncle Joseph stood to leave and Clark walked with him to the door. "Lois, as the time draws near to deliver your child, you should consider having one of the women from our village attend the birth."

"Ok." I said. At first, I wasn't sure that I meant it. But as I said it, it seemed somehow right that I should be among the Kawatchee when this baby arrived, since it seemed the baby already favored the Kawatchee heritage.

"That is a great idea." Clark told him. It struck me as being a slight bit odd that he would agree to this custom and not insist the baby be born in a hospital. It just shows how little I know Clark.


	11. Chapter 11

Page | 9

I was seated on the couch in the loft, my legs curled under me. After the visit from my Great Uncle Joseph I found myself spending more time in the loft. Clark had quite an extensive collection of material on the Kawatche; my curiosity about my heritage having been piqued. It was wonderful to lose myself in the old stories—stories I hadn't heard since my girlhood. Stories that I thought were a mixture of myth and legend.

My reading also served to take my mind off the terrible nightmares I'd been having. On many nights since Josephs' visit, I was awakened by variations of the same disturbing nightmare. It had gotten so that I was reluctant to go to sleep and revisit those horrible visions.

"Lois, can we talk?" Clark took my hand in his, and settled next to me on the couch. I knew that something had been on his mind and whatever is was it seemed to take a great deal of his resolve to broach the subject with me. He took a deep breath, measuring and calculating his words carefully, summoning the courage to finish his speech before he lost his nerve again. "Lois, I wanted to thank you."

I looked at him, and I was sure that my puzzlement showed on my face. I kept quiet, allowing him to continue. _Hard for me, I know._ "As you know, I was adopted. For years I worried about my real parents, what happened to them, why they chose to give me up. It even caused problems between me and my dad for a while."

"Clark, I had no idea. . ."

"Oh yeah, it got ugly." He reflected, and I could sense pain in his voice. "I love my parents, you understand, but I just had to know. I didn't mean to hurt them. They tried to understand, but I know I hurt them."

I nodded and placed my hand over his. I rubbed my thumb over his knuckles. Encouraged by this, he cupped his other hand over mine and then pushed on.

"I vowed if I ever had a child, that I would never let my son or daughter wonder about how I felt about them. Lois, I promise you, I will do everything in my power to always protect you and our baby."

"I know that Clark."

"This farm has been in my family for over 100 years, and I want that legacy to continue. Everything I have is yours, but I don't want to be a father on paper only." He paused a moment. I suppose it was to give me a chance to really hear what he was saying. He took a deep breath.

"Lois, I know you are an independent woman. And I don't want you to take this the wrong way, or to get angry with me. I don't even want you to answer right now. I want you to think about what I am going to ask next. Agreed?"

I nodded.

"I know you don't love me, but I'll make a good husband. Please marry me. Please let us have a chance to have a real family--Together."

"Clark." I whispered. My throat had gone dry, dry as a desert. How could he not know how I felt about him after all that we had been through? How could he doubt my feelings? _Because you never told him, you idiot!_ My inner voice can be so blunt sometimes. I took his hand in mine and gave him a gentle squeeze.

"Clark—"

"No, don't answer yet. Just think about it."

"But, what if I know the answer already?"

"I don't know if I am ready to hear it."

"Even if . . . even if the answer is yes?"

"I hope the answer will still be the same after you hear the rest of what I have to tell you."

~ * ~ * ~

I remember telling him that I needed to sit down.

"Lo, you are sitting down."

"Oh. Yeah." I replied, detached, my voice sounding foreign and far away. In my hands was a silver and turquoise bracelet that I had not seen in many years--a bracelet that I hadn't thought about at all until my Great Uncles' visit. The bracelet that he told me he had given to Naman—given to Clark..

I don't know how long I sat there, just staring at him. He was serious.

"It all makes sense now. And the nightmare—that wasn't my nightmare—that's yours. The fear I felt—that's what you fear. I sensed it, I _felt_ it." I walked to where he had stopped in front of the loft window, and placed my hand on his upper arm. I came around to stand in front of him and look into his eyes.

"Is that why Ella can talk to me? Is that why she can feel everyones' thoughts you? Can you read my mind?"

"No Lois, I can't read your mind. I'm not sure if we all have the same abilities. Kara can fly and I can't."

"Kara can fly?" I asked, still in awe.

Clark nodded, then he processed something he'd missed.

"Ella? Who's Ella?" Clark asked, perplexed.

"That's what I started calling her—I mean I couldn't just keep calling her baby. I was going to talk to you about it. Originally, I thought that Jonathan would be a good name for a boy, after your dad. Then when I started speaking to her and she was a girl, I had to pick a girls' name. If you don't like the name, then we ch--"

Clark favored me with one of his breathtaking smiles. "I love it. It was your moms' name, wasn't it?"

"You remembered?"

He nodded. I smiled at him timidly. "You sure you don't mind? The not asking you first, I mean."

"I think Ella is a perfect name for our baby."

"Good. It's settled. You can choose the name for the next baby."

"I can choose the name for the next baby?"

"Unless you want Ella to be an only child, but I think she might be lonely."

He pulled me into his arms so fast that I might have fallen over if not for his quick reflexes and super-human strength. I melted into him instantly; loving the feel of his arms around me, supporting me, loving me.

"Clark?"

"Hmmm?"

"You were wrong before—when you proposed to me."

He pulled away from me, and looked into my eyes, searching.

"You don't believe I'll make a good father? Is it because I'm an al-"

"No, not that. Of course you'll be a good father – an excellent father. I don't know that I'm going to get any awards for the worlds' greatest mother, but I'm not worried about you. You'll be perfect."

His fingers tugged at my chin, forcing me to look up. "I don't understand what you mean."

I swallowed hard. _Why was it so hard for me to admit my feelings to him?_

"I was talking about the other part; the part about me not loving you."

He cupped my check in his hand. His lips were soft when they brushed across mine; sending tiny shivers ricocheting down my spine, and I felt the corresponding tremors in his fingers. I brought my hand up to cover his, holding it there while we sustained a gentle kiss, so tentative, so necessary, and felt the world fall away around us. His lips coaxed mine to respond, stoking the liquid fire that burned through my veins like molten lava. I wound my arms around him, pressing my body to his as his mouth sought mine yet again. His tongue brushed against my lips, as though he were savoring the nectar of the rarest flower, tasting me, cherishing me.

Clark's breathing was ragged when he finally pulled back. He cleared his throat.

"I didn't know if you'd ever kiss me like that once you knew who I really was," he said, and his voice was husky with more than the simple rasp of a caress.

"You're still the same Clark Kent to me." I said, truthfully.

I placed my hands on his hard, flat belly, sliding them upward over the smooth planes of his ribs and chest, caressingly, tauntingly, feeling the heavy thud of his heart beneath my palm. His hands explored my body, the lightest brush of his fingertips fueling the fires of desire. His body molded against mine, until by the time he pulled away from the kiss, I felt boneless.

"Make love to me." I whispered, my voice thick with desire.

I sensed the trembling in his hands, and gripped him tighter in an attempt to calm his fears.

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you or Ella." he breathed in response.

"Clark, I'm not made of glass. You won't hurt me."

"But, I could . . . I don't know . . . I—"

I remember that I smiled at him. _Yes, he certainly was the same Clark Kent. _

"Something tells me we could go back and forth like this all day. Just relax. I trust you. I know you wouldn't ever do anything to hurt me—to hurt us."

Clark took my hand in his and lifted it to his mouth, his lips dropping gentle kisses onto the tips of my fingers. He leaned forward just enough to brush his lips across mine again. "You are the most amazing woman I have ever known." I could feel the color rising in my cheeks.

"I love you, Lois Lane."

And then he was kissing me again, inhibitions now freed by my silent admission of love for him. His tongue slid over my lips, coaxing them to part, full both of teasing and of promise. His mouth opened onto me, hot and insistent in an endless kiss of deep, raw hunger. He was panting when he finally pulled back, and looked down at the glow of my cheeks.

Then I became bolder, and pressed my lips to his throat. As the shudder pulsed through him, his eyes fluttered shut. Gently, I pressed into him, pushing him back against the sofa.

I was on top of him, hovering above him, our torsos melding together, and my hair, which had grown remarkably fast and thick during this pregnancy, whispered across his cheek and over his chest where it fell over my shoulder.

Clarks' eyes were on me, watching as I lowered my head again, dipping in to nip at the cleft of his chin. His eyes drifted closed again. "Lo--," he started, only to have it cut off in a gasp when my hands slipped down and unfastened the buttons of his jeans.

"Lois." He hissed in surprise.

"Sshhh,"

"Lo . . . please, honey . . . LOIS." I admit now that I ignored his attempts to gain my attention and I deliberately misinterpreted him. My hand tightened around his shaft, squeezing and stroking in an eruption of pleasure that drove the air from his lungs.

"Smallville, relax." I winked at him.

He was unbelievably hard.

Then, his mouth was back on me, sucking at the hollow of my throat. My eyes rolled back as I felt the nip of his teeth. I reached up to tangle my fingers in his hair. "Yes…" only to lose in it a hiss when his tongue began circling the hard bud of my nipple. I gasped again when his lips closed around the tip of my breast, sucking the nipple against the roof of his mouth.

His fingers were tentative as they danced down my sides, and he shifted his weight in order to lavish attention on my other breast.

I shuddered when he inadvertently brushed his arm over the tops of my thighs, in spite of the underwear that still separated me from his touch. It seemed forever as his tongue and teeth teased my breasts, leaving me squirming against him as the desire slowly bubbled and swelled inside me. When the heat of his body suddenly abandoned mine, my eyes flew open to see him kneeling at my side, hands working determinedly at his shirt as he peeled it from his shoulders. He skin was golden, kissed by the sun, his shoulders broad and his torso was lean and well-muscled. My eyes dropped to the slim line of his hips as he worked at unfastening the rest of the buttons of his jeans.

"Are you certain?" Clark asked.

"Certain."

He stretched beside me on the sofa and I could feel the long length of his arousal pressing into my hip. I wanted him inside me, but his earlier concerns about hurting me explained more than his constant questions. I knew that he was anxious, but now I finally understood the real source of his apprehension came not from inexperience but through fear of hurting me in the heat of passion.

"Touch me," I encouraged, and took his hand in mine, guiding it down my stomach to the waistband of my panties. Gently, I slid his fingers beneath the elastic, noting the wonder in his eyes as he brushed over the wiry curls.

My legs parted, the invitation for him to explore passing silently between us. When he slipped the first finger between my folds, sliding along the wetness he found there. My hands flew to my sides, digging into the cushions as if to root myself from flying away. One gentle stroke…another tracing the lower curve of my opening…another glide up the other side…and then he lightly brushed over my clit, sending an electrical shock up my pelvis.

My sharp intake of breath at the contact made him jerk away. I grabbed his wrist. "No," I said huskily, opening my eyes to look into his startled face. "Don't stop now."

"But…did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine." Releasing my grip on him, I hooked my fingers through the waistband of my underwear and pushed them down my legs, kicking them away to bare myself to him again. "You can…do it again," I said at his hesitation. "Please?"

The entreaty was all it took to ease Clark's discomfort, and he returned to his careful exploration with an intent that was almost frightening in its earnestness. With each caress, he grew bolder, and when I felt his breath blow warm and ragged across my outer lips, my flesh broke out in goosebumps.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured. When I felt his cheek settle on my lower tummy, I glanced down to see him gazing up at me.

"What?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"It's nothing," he murmured. His hand in my heat never stopped moving, each stroke a frisson of fire through my thighs.

I didn't believe him, but it was obvious he wasn't going to say anything more, content in watching me react to his touch. When he slid a finger inside, I immediately clenched around him, and the groan that escaped my parted lips was unavoidable.

I responded by squeaking when he added a second finger, eyes dark with desire as they bored into mine. In and out he pumped, never breaking his gaze, and as the flames inside me escalated, he boldly brushed the pad of his thumb across my clit.

"Clark!" I cried out, bucking beneath his weight. For a moment, he disappeared, but his hand remained, and I twisted as he quickened the pace of his fingers. It was quickly becoming too much, and I groped to reach him through the haze he was creating in my head.

"Stop…please…" I gasped. "Want you…" As he began to climb up my length, I grew impatient, yanking him the rest of the way to slam my mouth to his. Hunger replaced caution, and almost immediately, his ardor matched mine, kissing me as if the world were about to end. My legs spread, wrapping around his waist, and I felt the tip of his erection nudging at my slick opening.

"Now…" I breathed.

There was resistance at first, his girth stretching me almost painfully as Clark pressed into me. His eyes were squeezed shut, the pleasure on his face was unmistakable as he sank into my heat. I let myself fall into the whirlwind his penetration created, drowning and swirling and floating as each agonizing inch filled the desire inside that had been screaming for him for days now.

It seemed forever before he was completely sheathed, and when he was, his forehead fell to mine, his breathless panting fanning across my cheeks. "I love you," Clark murmured. Re-capturing my lips, he began to move before coherent thought could manifest itself in my brain, groaning when I started to move with him. "Love you so much,"

"I love you," I whispered. Already so close to an orgasm before he'd entered me, each thrust only added to the crescendo, cascading in a riot of shivers and shocks before tossing me screaming over the precipice. My back arched as my inner muscles squeezed his shaft, a guttural cry being simultaneously torn from my throat.

Through the tremors wracking my body, I felt Clark speed his thrusts, his control gone in the wake of my pleasure. He stiffened, the muscles in his back straining with the force of his orgasm, each release deep inside me causing us to jerk in unison. My hands pulled him down, my mouth sought his, and before the quivering had stopped, we were kissing again, promising ourselves to one another without words.

He murmured "I love you" again into my ear, I smiled unseen as I stroked the hair at the nape of his neck.

And I could let myself love that. Because he couldn't hurt me.

_Wouldn't_ hurt me.

He promised.


End file.
